A Mile Walked
by aubreysmom
Summary: The long-awaited minisequel to Time Flies. A simple evening out prompts and emotional bond and a new friendship. This is NOT a Jack/Sue story.
1. One

A Mile Walked…

**A Mile Walked…**

By T.L. Lawrence

The evening sparkled in the just-fading light, from the glitter of the damp streets to the first bright star appearing on the horizon where the clouds were finally clearing. Even the sequins on her bag seemed brighter.

She was very glad Lucy had already left on her date. The explanation for tonight would have taken far too long, and left her far too stressed to enjoy it.

_Why am I nervous? If anything, he's walking into MY world tonight._ Sue Thomas toyed with the fringe on her shawl as she watched from the window. Though the rain had stopped, the evening breeze was a bit chill for July. _Who would have ever thought…?_

Her mind wandered back three months, to a fraud case, an impromptu storytelling event among the Deaf patients at the nursing home they were investigating, and a surprising conversation back at the Bullpen.

…_He smiled again. "You know, I've heard Evelyn Glennie perform several times, both in Boston and here in DC. I didn't know all that about her, though, and I didn't realize you followed the arts. Or, if you don't mind my asking, is it more because she's deaf?"_

_"No, I follow the arts, more deaf art then anything. It's easier for me to understand. Evelyn being deaf is more of an inspiration than anything."_

_"Deaf art? Would you explain that to me?" He looked puzzled, but genuinely interested. …_

The conversation had been one of the most enjoyable she'd had with him in the two years she'd known him. She'd have brought it up long ago, since she'd known he was a patron of the arts, but she wasn't sure if his passion would extend into her world as well. As it turned out, he'd been intrigued.

… _They worked in silence for a several minutes. Then he reached over and flicked the desk light again, a little more hesitantly this time. When she looked up, she saw the same hesitation in his eyes._

_"What is it, Myles?" she asked gently. "Whatever it is, go ahead and ask it. It's okay."_

_"What about...well, you mentioned Evelyn Glennie, who is a musician. How—" He paused. "Please don't take this wrong. How, if you can't hear the music...?" He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question. …_

She'd not realized how deep his love of music went until the conversation turned in that direction. Explaining the different "senses" of music to him, watching the expression on his face, had shocked her. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who had come into the working relationship with preconceptions.

… _Myles thought about that, hard. "I never thought of that. I do know when I go to the symphony and sit closer to the stage, I can usually feel the music in my feet, through the floor, but I never really thought of it as its own...sense, I suppose." He looked at her again, smiling. "So if I were to find out when Evelyn Glennie is going to be with the National Symphony this season...and I believe she __is__ on the schedule, by the way...?"_

_She raised a brow at him, but her eyes twinkled. "She is. Mid-July, I think." She grinned mischievously, pretending she didn't know what he was asking. "What was your question?"_

_He laughed, and teased her right back. "Would you be interested in going? Or would that get me in trouble with either David or Jack?" …_

The most surprising part was that two days ago she'd gotten to her desk and found a plain white envelope lying there, no writing on it at all. She'd looked around, but everyone seemed completely engrossed in their work. Dimitrius had come in with an assignment for Myles and Bobby, and neither had done more than nod to her on their way out.

She'd sat down and started to open the envelope when Lucy tapped her shoulder. "What's that?"

"I don't know. You didn't see anyone put it here?"

NO, Lucy had signed. BIG MYSTERY, YESQQ

BEGIN DAY, BEST WAY, Sue smiled as she'd slipped open the envelope and pulled out a narrow piece of heavy paper. Her eyes had widened, and it was all she could do to bury the gasp in her throat. _I figured he'd forgotten all about it._

"Wow." Lucy took the ticket from her. "Fifth row center for the National Symphony on Friday. Pricey. Somebody sure has their signals crossed, though. Isn't this pretty much insulting for you?"

"Why?" Sue asked. You know I love music. And fifth row is perfect for feeling it. I'd forgotten I asked a friend of mine to get a ticket for me the next time they were going."

"Well, now I don't feel so bad about going out with Ron and leaving you home by yourself," the dark-skinned woman had teased. "Does Levi get to go, too?"

Sue had frowned a bit. "I hadn't thought of that. He doesn't care for the drums. I'll ask Charlie to take him for the evening. Levi can have a popcorn spree."

Lucy had walked away, chuckling. Sue glanced around to make sure everyone was still busy, then pulled out her Blackberry and sent a quick text message: _**You're on. Can I talk you into letting me spring for dinner?**_

Five minutes later, the Blackberry vibrated against her hip, and she'd smiled as she read the reply: _**Not on your life. My idea, my treat. I will pick you up Friday at 7.**_

Sue took a deep breath, watching the cars pass on the street below. Lucy had been remarkably good about believing every vague answer given to her persistent questions about who was going to the symphony with her. She'd never actually _lied_ to Lucy, but "a good friend I found at the retirement home" did seem to be stretching the truth a bit. Still, it was infinitely better than the grilling she'd have gotten if she'd admitted she was going to dinner and the symphony with Myles Leland III.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the car pull up; only when her Blackberry buzzed and she read _**Levi has the night off as doorman?**_ did she run to the door.

"Myles, I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I—"

He held up a hand. "Not necessary." A blond brow popped up as he got a good look at her. YOU BEAUTIFUL, he signed, but there was something uncomfortable in his face as he did. "I… I'm sorry. I was going to say 'very nice,' since this is by no means a 'real' date, but… I don't know how."

Now Sue smiled. "Glad to know I'm not the only one who's wondering if we'll have to keep this evening a secret from the rest of the team, or face endless teasing for the next year." She pointed at him, then pushed a "v" handshape forward from next to her eyes, as if pointing where she was looking. Then she brought the fingertips of both "v" hands together in front of her and drew them apart about shoulder width. Then she slid her right hand, palm-down, forward over her upturned left hand. "You look very nice, too." She finished it off with the SAME-SAME sign he was familiar with.

He copied the signs, breathing a sigh of relief when she nodded, smiling. Then he grinned. "Teasing? I'm afraid I'm going to get _shot_ when Jack finds out."

She blushed clear to her toes, and he laughed as he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"


	2. Two

Summer meant late sunlight, and Sue was grateful for it; it was far easier to carry on a conversation in a car when she could see. However…

"— for the past year?" Myles finished the left turn and glanced back at her.

"I'm sorry?"

"The reports." He paused at the confused look she gave him. "What?"

She sighed a little. "Which reports for the past year?"

"The voucher expenses. The—" Another turn came up. "— Randy's office."

"What?" Her voice was a little frustrated.

Myles blew out his breath in a growing annoyance. "The—" Suddenly, he stopped and thought back over the conversation. While he'd made a conscious effort to "stay out of the dictionary" this time, as Lucy would have said, he'd committed a "rookie move;" not keeping her in his sight line.

He caught the look in her eyes and realized it was the third or fourth time it had happened in the short drive. She hadn't asked him to repeat every time, but now he remembered that she'd looked exasperated with him more than once. "I did it again, didn't I?"

She shook a finger at him, smiling just a little. "You just need to remember to stop talking when you turn left." She cut off the apology she saw coming with a wave. "I understand you're not used to it. You always count on someone else to make sure I'm watching you. They're not here now."

"Well, just swat me or something, will you please?" His expression belied the words, an ironic smile crossing his features. "I'll not have it said that my manners are suffering simply because I wasn't paying attention."

It took her a minute, but then she laughed. "Heaven forbid."

He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, then got out to open her door for her. He held out a hand to help her up, and squeezed it a little when she was standing.

"I realize you hate hearing it," he said, "but please accept my apology for being so dense."

He realized his mistake at the moment she laughed. But before he could apologize again, she took his arm. "I _heard_ nothing I hated," she quipped with a smile, "and apology accepted. Let's eat."


	3. Three

"Miss? Miss!" The waiter's voice was irritated. When Myles touched Sue's arm to get her attention, she looked up.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "What did you say?"

He huffed. "I _said_," he repeated, "Would the young lady like something to drink?" The words were drawn out slightly, and the expression on his face was one of disdain.

"Club soda would be fine," she replied timidly, cringing slightly as she waited for Myles' reaction.

He didn't bat an eyelash, much to her surprise. "Make that two," he added smoothly. "And would you be so kind as to ask Gregori to come out? Tell him that Myles Leland would like a word, if he has a moment."

"Yes, sir."

After the waiter left, Sue leaned over, her eyes a bit suspicious. "Who's… Gregori, I think you said?"

"The owner of this fine establishment," he replied. "He can charm anyone; imagine your friend Charlie as the owner of this place, always wanting to be in the middle of his customers' enjoyment. You'll love him."

Five minutes later, a large, sociable-looking man came bustling over, carrying their club sodas and a bottle of wine on a tray. His luxurious handlebar mustache was waxed to perfection, and he was obviously a part of this place. Sue found herself liking him even before he reached the table, though she knew she'd probably have a hard time reading him, between the mustache and what she suspected was a very pronounced, very genuine Italian accent.

"Myles, _il mio buon amico_!" As soon as the tray was on the table, Gregori spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. He spotted Sue, and the smile got wider. "_Signore_ Leland, he always come in with a pretty girl. A bottle of our best Chianti, on the house."

Myles chuckled and held up a hand to stop what was no doubt a lengthy commentary. "Not tonight, Gregori, but thank you." He caught Sue's expression and knew she'd understood very little of the conversation so far. "This is a co-worker of mine, Sue Thomas. Sue, this is Gregori Pannatone, owner of the best Italian restaurant, and the smoothest tongue, in the tri-state area."

"I'm sorry… Ban-ah-_toe_-nay?" she asked.

Gregori clapped his hands together. "Ah, this lady, she is the one you tell me about, yes? With the eyes of an eagle, and a beautiful dog who loves my cannelloni, when he can steal it off your desk." He pulled out a business card and presented it to her with a flourish. "_Signore_ Gregori Pannatone, at your service. If there is _anything_ I can do for you tonight, you just let me know and I shall care for it personally."

Myles' eyes narrowed just slightly. "Actually, Gregori, there is something. We'd like a different waiter for tonight, if you don't mind. One whose manners are intact."

"Myles." Sue's eyes were wide, and a flush crept over her cheeks as she shook her head. "No. You don't have to—"

"Your waiter, he was rude?" Gregori's expression was grave.

"Very. He asked Miss Thomas for her drink order, and when she didn't look up from her menu, since she did not hear him and I had forgotten to get her attention, he was most condescending to her." Myles ignored the pleading look Sue was giving him. "I'm not used to such treatment from your staff here, no matter i_whom/i _they are addressing."

"Of course, _il mio amico_." Gregori had noticed Sue's mortified expression, and he reached over to pat her hand. "You are causing no trouble, _signora graziosa_, so you do not need to look so sad. The waiter, he is new, and this is not the first time he has been rude to a customer. I do not look fondly on waiters who ruin the experience of _Il Fiore Giallo_. I shall take care of you myself tonight. Have no worries, _signora_. Please. I wish you to enjoy your evening."

"Thank you," she replied smiling. "You're very kind."

"Not at all," the restaurant owner replied. "In fact, since you will not be having the Chianti tonight, I will have the chef prepare an order of cannelloni especially for your Levi. On the house. And you will not have to worry about Marcus any more, Myles. He has proven too many times that he is not suited for this place."

"You are a prince among men, Gregori." Myles' smile was a practiced one, but Sue could see the genuine warmth behind it.

As the owner bustled off, putting in an order for antipasto and leaving them to decide on their entrees, she leaned over. "Remember giving me permission to 'swat' you?"

He smiled over the rim of his club soda and nodded. Then he shocked her again by signing WHYQQ, his brows raised, before he set the glass down.

"You just earned it, if I could reach you without causing a scene."

Now the smile vanished, and he looked concerned. "Why?" he repeated vocally. Then he sighed, and his eyes gained a sad quality. "What did I do now, Thomas?"

"You didn't need to go to all that fuss just because of me." Her eyes dropped until he tapped her hand.

"This was not a case of 'fussing over you,' Sue," he said firmly but quietly. "This was a case of the service I expect in a restaurant, and Gregori runs a very high-class, well-mannered establishment. I would have done as much for any other lady I was here with, regardless of _in what way_ the waiter was rude."

She nodded in understanding, but her voice shook a little as she replied softly, "While I can appreciate your standards, I don't appreciate the additional _attention_ it brings." Her head moved slightly to encompass the people sitting around them.

Myles drew back a little, and glanced around, realizing now what she had meant. It was clear others had overheard the conversation. He was used to Gregori's grand overtures drawing attention, but never like this. He had never been regarded, before, the way he was now. Such pity in others' eyes.

Maybe it was the months since the fraud case at the nursing home; maybe it was something inside he'd never tapped before. Or maybe it was the painful realization that, at one time, he'd have been just like them. Whatever the reason, he found himself a bit irritated now, that something as plain as common courtesy could become such an issue simply because the recipient was "different."

He turned back to face his colleague, and watched her eyes dart around under her lashes until the others went back to their conversations. Then he tapped her hand again. "You shouldn't be embarrassed to insist on a bit of courtesy," he said.

Sue sighed. "That's just it, Myles. When it's _me_, or someone like me, insisting on it, it somehow _becomes_ more than it maybe should." She twirled her glass a little on its coaster. "I don't really know how to explain it."

"Try me." He lifted his own glass in a small salute, a twinkle in his eyes. "We survived the perils of Deaf Art; how much more treacherous can this be?"

She smiled. "Ok, but you asked for it." Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she then looked directly at him and plunged in. "Have you ever thought of how you would function in a world where the _one_ sense that you are missing actually cuts you off from communication? When your entire life has been molded to 'make' you adapt to the others, always, instead of others adapting to you? Situations like this draw unwelcome attention, because it zeroes in on the absence of that sense."

She watched the implications of her words cross his face, and realized he hadn't quite gotten it. She tried again. "Helen Keller even expressed empathy for the deaf. She said that, if she had to choose, she would much rather have her hearing than her sight. Because blindness cuts you off from _things_. Deafness cuts you off from _people_."

_That_ made an impact; she saw him blink, then sit back in his chair for a moment, his eyes wide and almost shocked. "I—" He thought hard on it; she could see it in the way his brows drew together a little, his jaw set; much the way she could tell, at the office, when he was puzzling out a case.

After a minute or so, he sighed and leaned back in, resting his elbows on the edge of the table and regarding her over his folded hands. He started to say something, but she stopped him before he got very far.

"Can I see your lips, at least, or are you going to hide them behind your hands for the rest of the evening?" She smiled as she said it, hoping he wouldn't take it too hard. _He's trying, at least; that's more than I would have expected a year ago._

"Oh." He signed SORRY, and moved his hands to rest on the table instead. "I was saying… I guess I never thought of it that way. Most of the thoughts I've had since knowing you are in terms of _what_ you can't hear, things I enjoy and undoubtedly take for granted. I never thought about it in terms of… a barrier." Then his face registered a memory of some sort. "Or maybe I did, and just didn't think of it from _your_ perspective."

Sue stopped him from signing SORRY again. "Myles, it's ok. I'm used to it, and I know you're about to say that doesn't make it okay, and I thank you for that. But making even more of an issue over it tonight isn't going to cure the whole world, and I'd rather we just look forward to the concert."

He nodded, and smiled as Gregori reappeared with a huge plate of antipasto and two fresh club sodas. "Don't get ahead of the evening, Thomas. We still have the best meal DC has to offer waiting for us. What would you like to order?"

She glanced at the menu again; she'd been dreading this moment. "Uh…" She sighed. "Myles, the only thing I see on here that I can pronounce is the _penne arrabbiata_, and that's only because I saw you say it the night Bobby's dad made contact with that bomber. Spicy just doesn't appeal tonight."

To her surprise, he didn't roll his eyes or blow out a breath in frustration; he simply lowered her menu so he could see it as well, and said, "What does? We'll find it."

What ended up appealing was _parmigiano della melanzana_, eggplant parmesan. It had finally taken him writing it out phonetically, on the notepad he'd pulled out of his pocket, before she could pronounce the Italian version. It had been a humorous venture for both of them, though.

"That's not your case notebook, is it?" she asked. "Randy will have your neck for using it outside of 'company business'."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't ruin the evening by bringing up that little weasel." He took a drink before answering. "I simply thought it might be prudent to have a backup plan in case the surroundings weren't conducive to lip-reading."

"I'm sorry?" She smiled. "Your glass was blocking your lips for about half of that."

"Sorry." He set the glass down and repeated what he'd said.

Sue smiled. "If you're going to apologize every single time, I'm going to stop 'swatting' you."

"Well, I didn't realize that—" He stopped abruptly. "No; that's as bad as an apology. I'll try to remember better, and you can just kick me under the table to get my attention."

She laughed. "How about we just agree to do most of our talking _between_ courses? Otherwise, we're both going to end up with indigestion."


	4. Four

By the time their entrees were served, they'd worked it out to a fair rhythm. His natural manners prevented him from speaking with his mouth full, she was grateful. The only thing she had to remind him on was not holding his glass or fork in front of his face while he was talking.

Gregori found it very amusing, as he bustled back and forth, treating them like royalty. "You see, _signora_, you are the first lady I see him with who keep him thinking, instead of charming you with his silver tongue." He chuckled as Myles shot him a look.

The Harvard grad smiled thinly, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "_Siete un signore e un pirata, il mio amico. Ora vada via._"

Gregori laughed heartily as he walked away. Sue raised a brow at Myles. "Ok, English is hard enough. What did you say to him?"

"I told him he was a gentleman and a pirate, and to go away." He laughed as her brows shot up. "That's about the extent of my Italian, though, so you won't have to ask any more."

"I was starting to wonder," she teased. "Just don't try out your Russian on me, please."

"Deal." He picked up his fork and poked at his _pollo_ _piccata_. "So why don't you tell me something about yourself I don't already know? That way, I'll be listening instead of talking, and you won't have to kick me."

Her brows went up again, but she smiled. "You learn fast."

"I bruise easy."

Sue laughed and reached for a breadstick. "You're on."

* * *

_How could I have missed out on so much?_ He listened eagerly, resisting the urge to comment too much; it would not only throw off her rhythm, but he'd likely forget to clear her sight line to his lips as well.

"You're quiet." She laid down her fork and smiled at him. "Bored already, huh?"

He grinned sheepishly. "More like realizing just _how_ big a—" he signed a "j" followed by an "a." "— I"ve been over the past two years."

She titled her head in that trademark gesture of hers. "Glad I taught you that sign?"

"It does come in handy in polite company," he grinned. "But I'm serious; I'm not going to apologize again, since I really don't want to get kicked, but will you at least allow me to say that I completely underestimated you, and won't make the mistake again?"

Her eyes showed her gratitude, but she sighed. "Myles, trust me, if it's not you underestimating me, it'll be someone else…" She trailed off, her expression sad for some reason. "What you did was completely natural for most people. But I'm glad you finally made the attempt to understand where I'm coming from." She forced a laugh. "It does make working together a much better atmosphere."

He nodded, but tapped the table in front of her to make her look up again. "You're still not really happy here, are you? What is it?"

Sue drew back a little. "It's… nothing. Never mind."

Myles raised a brow at her. "Now, I thought those were the two words you hate most of all to see on someone's lips. You're really going to use them on me? I'm trained in advanced interrogation techniques, you know."

His quip made her laugh a little. "I know. It's just… I think maybe it's just me, and I don't want it to slip out to the people who've been very good to me…"

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating her for a long moment. "You still feel like a special project, don't you? Like all you are to us is your lip-reading ability?"

She blinked. "How— I mean… you… how—?"

"Look." He folded his hands together on the table and leaned toward her, facing her directly and making sure he wasn't speaking either too fast or too slowly. "The fact that we use that ability without question or fanfare at this point should tell you something. You are a _part_ of our team, Sue, an integral part. It's not just that you can read lips; I don't know if it's that you are used to depending more highly on your eyes, but you notice things that we often take for granted until you point it out. Samantha Dolan, the Hunter's pattern… I could go on. I mean, my observational skills are good, but they're not as fast as yours."

She started to speak, but he held up a hand. "_But_, and I have tried to make this clear to you on a number of occasions. You are not a Special Agent; and _because_ you are not, the rest of us have a responsibility to keep an eye on you. It has nothing to with thinking you can't do the job, and everything to do with the fact that it _is_ our responsibility. Different parts of the team fill different needs; it doesn't mean that any one part is more or less important than another."

Sue was quiet for a moment; then she raised a brow at him. "You get that speech from Jack?"

"No," he replied simply, "but I have suggested to him on occasion that perhaps it is a speech you needed to hear."

"Maybe." She smiled at him again. "Are we still going to the concert, or is Gregori going to start charging you rent for the table? Since you seem to bring quite a number of dates here."

"All my secrets are going to be an open book," he sighed dramatically. "Let's get out of here before Gregori gets me into any more trouble." He signaled for the check as she laughed.


	5. Five

"Ready," said Myles after he put away the credit card slip from the bill.

Sue nodded with a slight smile and followed Myles to his car. Noticing that she wasn't looking at him, Myles softly touched her elbow as he opened the car door for her. "Do you mind if I ask how you would sign _ready_?" he said with an impish grin.

Her eyes brightened at his desire to learn. "I don't mind at all," she replied, and then showed him to make a 'R' and shake it slightly in front of him.

On the way to the concert hall, the two barely spoke. Myles wondered why Sue had suddenly become so quiet. His inner fear had reared its ugly head and began to eat away. "Sue, why are you so quiet? Did I say or do something to offend you?" Myles asked as he glanced her way, trying to keep his eyes on the road and continue to drive.

Several minutes passed, yet Sue still hadn't replied to his question. _Well, Leland, you obviously aren't that smart after all. It's apparent she doesn't even know you spoke._ Myles softly sighed to himself and then gently laid his hand on her shoulder, startling her for a brief moment. "I'm sorry," he began. "I didn't…"

"It's okay," she said, taking a soft breath. "I don't think I've ever been in a car with you after dark, so I guess I should tell you…" She paused for a moment. "I can't see a thing you're saying. We need a flashlight, or you need to turn the overhead light on."

They stopped at a light, and the sight of his arm dropping from the overhead light caught her attention; she turned her eyes to his lips.

"Then how did you—?" he said, looking a bit bewildered.

"When you put your hand on my shoulder, I figured you had said something to me, and since I didn't answer… That's why you put your hand on my shoulder, to get my attention, right?"

Myles' brows drew together as he nodded slowly.

"It's much different talking to me at night. I can't see your lips unless there is enough light to make out their movement. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have forgotten to tell you. It just didn't cross my mind." Sue explained. "It's as much my fault."

"And I'm sorry I didn't think about driving in the dark. So we're even." The light turned green, and he started driving again. Smiling at her, his curiosity again got the better of him. "You and Jack don't have this trouble when you're in the car with him at night?"

Grinning, she simply replied. "No."

"Mind if I ask why not?"

"After a similar incident like this with Jack, he installed a map light for us to use. It gives off just enough light so I can see what he's saying without distracting him from the road," Sue explained, and caught Myles chuckling. "You find that funny?" she asked, confused by his reaction.

A moment later he composed himself. "Oh, no. It's not that at all." Taking a second, as another chuckle escaped his lips, he explained. "When you mentioned the map light, I just recalled Bobby grilling Jack on why he had installed a map light in his car, since he never _uses_ a map."

It took a moment for his words to register with her; but once they did, she clearly understood and they both shared a friendly laugh together.


	6. Six

Myles pulled up front of the concert hall, handed his keys to the valet and made his way around to open Sue's door, offering her his hand as he assisted her out of his car.

She looked up and their eyes met for only a brief second; then his raised hand caught her attention. She watched as he formed his right hand into a 'R' and slightly shook it in front of his shoulder, just as she had shown him. He even raised a brow in question.

Smiling brightly, she made a 'S' hand and nodded it, and then placed her hand in his. He tucked her hand against his arm as they headed for the entrance to the Kennedy Center.

_I always feel like a princess, walking in here_. She looked around at all the other patrons decked out in their formal wear. _I guess everyone else must, too._

As they walked towards the main doors to enter, Myles stopped dead in his tracks, startling her. "Is everything alright?"

He pulled her off to the side so others could pass. "I forgot to ask you. You didn't happen to remember to bring the...?" He paused, trying to recall what she had called them so he wouldn't confuse her further.

"The ear molds?" she reminded him.

"Yes. That was the whole purpose of this little outing, wasn't it? Besides the company of a lovely lady." He aimed his most charming smile at her.

Sue laughed. "Gregori was right. You are incorrigible." She reached into her small purse and pulled out a small plastic container, beige in color, and handed it to him. "Did you _really _think I'd forget?"

He carefully opened the container to find the oddest-looking set of ear plugs he had ever seen. They were a light flesh color and quite soft to the touch. His smile disappeared in bewilderment as he tried to figure out how he was to put them in his ears.

Noticing the change in his expression, she teased him gently. "What's wrong? Not your color?"

A small gasp escaped his lips at the thought of her possibly being insulted. "No, no, the color is perfect… I mean…"

"But…?" she said as she watched his lip movement, indicating his voice trailing off. She added a smile to reassure him.

"I'm sorry for my ignorance, but how do they go in your ears?" he asked. "I'm used to the little foam ones that you twist and cram in your ears at the shooting range."

It was Sue's turn to chuckle now. "Please don't apologize," she told him. She held out her hand, and he handed them back to her. "Do you mind?" she said, offering to show him.

They were getting some strange looks from some of the people around them, but Myles really didn't care. Here was the whole reason he'd suggested the evening, and he was eager for the experience. His brows rose as he spoke. "Please," he said simply.

After showing him a few times, Myles was finally able to put them in securely himself.

"I suggest you take them out until the concert starts." She finished speaking before she turned.

Thank heaven. He'd started to follow her, but stopped dead again as it registered that he'd just experienced, in a single sentence, her whole life. He thought again at how he had seen her lips move, but had no idea what she had said. Everything was completely silent, except for a small hum; he wondered where it was coming from. He glanced around the entrance of the Kennedy Center; people were bustling around in the late twilight, talking and laughing as they made their way into the hall. Yet he heard almost nothing, the very faintest buzz. He could imagine it, having attended the symphony here countless times, but to watch and realize that it was all sight and almost no sound stopped him cold.

He saw that Sue had turned back to him, wondering why he hadn't followed her. She waved to him, until she noticed his eyes were on her. "Are you coming?"

Myles knew that if he hadn't been concentrating hard on her lips, he wouldn't have even figured out "coming;" "Yes. Sorry." He heard his own voice in his head, and felt immensely comforted for some reason. He moved toward her, and they stepped into the lobby of the concert hall.

Inside was just as disconcerting; silent conversations were going on all around him, and it swiftly became a chaotic jumble. He didn't even realize he was gripping her hand rather tightly until she laid a hand on his arm. "Myles, are you ok?"

It was too much at the moment. Not able to stand not knowing what she'd said, he shook his head slightly and removed the ear molds from his ears. "You were right. These things do work, _very_ well. I couldn't hear anything except my own voice."

Sue gave him a small, sad smile as she looked him in the eyes and her brows rose. "Well, that's one up on me," she said softly. "But that's good, I'm glad they work well for you." She started to walk ahead of him toward the ushers, pulling her ticket out of her purse.

_I did it again._ He groaned inwardly, still trying to shake off the overwhelming feelings of a few minutes ago. He waited until they were through the inside doors before he gently caught her arm and pulled her aside into a small, lit alcove. "Sue, I'm sorry. I just… I didn't mean it to sound… look…" He sighed. "I wasn't trying to be flippant, ok? It just caught me by surprise. I never realized…"

She gazed at him for a long moment, and he struggled to keep the walls down. The experience he'd just been through left him feeling more a bit vulnerable, but he needed her to understand. After a moment, her eyes widened. "You really weren't ok out there, were you?"

"No. I mean…" He sighed heavily. "It just hit me all at once, that's all. So much going on around me, and not able to make sense of any of it." His head dropped a little, but not enough that she couldn't read him. "I'm sorry I bailed before we even got through the doors."

She smiled after a moment. "Are you telling me you don't want to put them back in and try again?"

"No! I'm not saying that at all. I just…" He trailed off as her caught the twinkle in her eyes. "You're not mad at me?"

Her brows shot up again. "For what? Being completely overwhelmed at the sudden 'catastrophic loss' of your hearing? Myles, what do you take me for?"

He was totally confused now. "But… the look on your face… I said something about only being able to hear my own voice, and you got this hurt expression and walked away. I don't understand what I did wrong."

"Oh!" She gasped in realization. "Myles, I wasn't upset; I meant for that to come out as a joke. I guess it didn't ."

"Oh." He looked immensely relieved, then fixed his gaze on her. "You really can't hear your own voice? I never really thought about that, until now. I know that the voice resonates off the bones in your skull…"

"But the hair cells still need to work for it to register as sound," she explained.

"Ahhhh." He noticed she looked confused at that, and signed ME… He thought for a second, then realized he had no idea. So he started to fingerspell it. U-N-D-E-R-S-T—

She stopped him before he could finish. "Here; this is UNDERSTAND." She held her right fist next to her temple, the fingers facing her, then flicked her index finger up as she moved her hand out slightly.

THANK YOU, he replied. ME UNDERSTAND.

"Do you want to talk some more, or shall we take our seats?" She glanced at the dim lighting in the concert hall. "I don't know how well I'll be able to read you, but I can give it a shot. We can always come back up here if we need to."

He smiled and offered her his arm again. "Actually, I have that covered," he said. "Shall we?"


	7. Seven

It was a good thing they weren't in a larger group; Myles understood almost immediately how difficult it would have been for her to carry on a conversation if there'd been more people lined up in the seats. In the dim light, she'd only be able to read him, even sitting right next to her, for a short period before eyestrain set in.

Since he didn't plan on this evening being a headache in the making, he pulled out his notepad again, along with a nifty little gadget he'd picked up in preparation for the concert.

Sue started a little when he handed her both the notepad and a lighted magnifying card. Then she smiled as she read _**Told you I had it covered. Does this work better than straining in the dim light?**_

"Yes, much," she replied, then noticed he was putting the ear molds back in. "But how are you going to…?" She laughed as he raised a brow at her and pointed at the notepad as if to say _"What, you can't write?"_ I SEE, she signed. YES, I UNDERSTAND. GOOD IDEA. She had to fingerspell the last word for him so he'd understand.

The orchestra started to warm up, and she turned toward the stage. Myles caught her arm, then pulled a second notepad and pen out of his suit jacket. _**How did you know they were warming up? You weren't facing them.**_

"Can you hear them?" She gestured to him, then to her ear, and then to the stage.

He tilted his head for a minute, concentrating. _**Faintly**_, he wrote. _**That's because the sound is louder than normal conversation, right?**_

YES. She wrote the rest instead, since the signs would mean nothing to him. _**Hearing loss isn't only measured in decibel levels. There's a frequency measure as well.**_

_**Oh. So even though your decibel loss is… profound?**_He showed it to her, and when she nodded, he continued. _**…it also depends on whether the sound is a high-frequency or low-frequency?**_

Sue nodded again, and indicated the orchestra. "I'm guessing that all the instruments are warming up, but all I'm getting are snatches of what I think are drums…" She felt his hand on her arm and turned, smiling when he raised a brow and pointed to his ears. "Oh!" SORRY, she signed. I FORGET. She used the notepad to repeat what she'd said, then continued.

_**The "scale" for hearing loss is measured at speech level. Severe, profound, etc. It doesn't mean that I can't hear anything at all; it simply means that I don't hear voices unless you're at full blast and right next to me. Even then, I won't recognize actual words. Let me give you an example.**_

She flipped the page over. _**Let's say the motor on your refrigerator has a frequency of 500Hz, and it runs at a decibel level of 30. If my loss at that particular frequency is 20dbs, I would very likely be able to hear the motor running, but if my loss were 50dbs, I wouldn't be able to.**_

I SEE. He smiled as he wrote. _**So if my lawnmower freq = 250 Hz and is 90dbs, then unless your loss at 250Hz is less than 90, you won't hear it.**_

RIGHT, she replied, and had to fingerspell that one for him as well. _**My loss is 110 and 120, respectively, but it's also a high-frequency loss.**__**Your ear molds give you a significant decibel loss, but not a frequency one, so you can probably pick out most of the instruments, if you listen closely. But I only hear those that function on low frequencies, like the drums, or the tuba, or an oboe. And since an oboe's range is fairly wide, it fades in and out as well.**_

He watched her face as she wrote, noticing that her expression changed just as if she were signing it to him. It fascinated him, how the lack of sound brought out such nuances, like the subtleties of the human face.

He drew out of his thoughts when she handed him the notebook again. _**It depends on a few other things as well.**_ _**The high ceilings in here will help what sound I can make out to be more… accessible? If the wind is blowing outside, I'll miss things I might have caught if the air was calm, like a semi-truck's air horn. There's no real "flat definition" of what being deaf is. It's a lot a variations.**_

The traditional "A" being played by 120 various instruments at once made them both turn, and Sue smiled at him. SHOES OFF. She caught his grin in reply.

_**I felt that even through my shoes**_. The house lights dimmed further. _**I'll try to keep my comments to a minimum during the performance. I think this is going to be an adventure. It's already an education.**_


	8. Eight

At intermission, Myles and Sue were standing near one of the refreshment tables the Kennedy Center provided for its "premium patrons." He'd gotten her a club soda, and one for himself as well. Sue was very surprised that he'd opted to leave the ear molds in.

He'd started to ask her a question when a flamboyant woman in red silk walked up to them and threw her arms around him. "Myles! Dah-ling! However are you doing?"

Sue's brows climb halfway to the ceiling as he extricated himself from his "attacker." "Mrs. Dolan," he smiled. "Always a pleasure to see you here."

"You simply _must_ come over and see my prize orchids sometime," the woman was saying. "You always say you're going to, and then you never show up."

"I apologize," he replied smoothly. "Every time I decide to make the trip, there's an emergency somewhere in the free world."

_How did he…_

She shook a diamond-decked finger at him. "Well, you tell all those hooligans that you need some time off, too. The Annual Foster Flower show is in three months, and I need your help to make sure all my entries are at their peaks."

"Of course." He held out a hand toward Sue. "How rude of me. I'd like you to meet Sue Thomas, a co-worker who enjoys the symphony as much as I do."

"Lovely to meet you, dear, just lovely." Mrs. Dolan pumped Sue's hand energetically. "Don't you forget now, Myles."

As the woman hurried off to schmooze someone else, Sue pulled Myles out of the crowd and stared him down. She signed slowly so he'd be sure to get it all. HOW… YOU…KNOW WHAT SHE SAY? Her eyes felt like saucers. YOU DEAF!

Myles laughed. "Eileen Dolan gives me that exact same spiel every time she sees me here. It's become a little ritual, you might say. In a couple of weeks, I will go over to her greenhouse, reassure her that her gardener is doing an excellent job, and she'll start in again for next year. The only thing that changes is how long it is until the Foster Flower Show."

Sue laughed as well, and signed something. She pointed to him, then held her left "b" hand in front of her at chest level, facing right, and slid her right index finger forward under the left hand from her thumb to the heel of her hand.

His brows lowered. WHATQQ

YOU. She jabbed her finger at him again, grinning. S-N-E-A-K-Y.


	9. Nine

He'd heard Evelyn Glennie play before, many times, with both the National Symphony and the Boston Pops; the percussionist had always impressed him with her dexterity and stamina. But this was different; though he could feel the vibrations in the floor and sometimes through the arms of his seat, whole sections were missing. String instruments, the major part of any orchestra, simply didn't produce enough sound waves to make the floor vibrate. He could see the bows moving, knew the music enough that he knew what _should_ be there, but it wasn't. And some of the percussive instruments Evelyn played were similar; the xylophone she was putting through its paces on "Maple Leaf Rag" at the moment, for example.

And yet he was experiencing parts of the music he'd taken for granted; because he couldn't hear the flutes, the subtle rumble of the timpani rose to the surface. Most of the woodwinds were muted, and the strings all but obliterated completely, but he could feel the underlying power of the lower brass instruments. It was as if he were "hearing" each piece for the first time.

Sue had apparently turned to watch his expression, because she tapped his arm at the end of the piece and signed YOU O-KQQ. Because her face and hands were lit by the glow of the stage lights, he could pick up the signs fairly easily.

YES, he replied after a moment, then grabbed the notepad. _**It's like a new piece.**_ _**You were right about different parts of it being "sensed" differently.**_

YOU NOT SAD YOU… She opted to write the rest. _**Missing it?**_

He blinked; he hadn't even thought of it that way. _**Not at all. I don't feel I'm missing out on anything. I never noticed how the movement of the instruments, the conductor, all lend itself to the "flavor" of the song. I've always concentrated on just the music, the sound, itself. And even then I never caught the subtleties all the time. This is a wonderful experience.**_

"Excuse me." A man seated next to them leaned over into their sight lines. "It would be much easier to enjoy the music if I didn't have to listen to the continual rustling of paper in the process, or be distracted by that fool light blinking on and off. Could you two continue your conversation _after_ the concert, please?"

He might not have understood what the man was saying, but he caught the mood full-face. "Sorry." Myles was tempted to say more, until he realized that in another time and place, he might have reacted the same way. He tapped Sue's arm and fingerspelled W-E T-A-L-K M-O-R-E L-A-T-E-R. O-KQQ

She smiled; she'd been expecting him to bristle. He could almost hear her voice in his mind: _Pick your battles; you learned that fast._ Her hands moved again, all grace. YOU MUCH EXCITED ME SEE YOU WANT TALK MUCH. WE TALK LATER O-K.


	10. Ten

The piece listed on the program, just before Miss Glennie returned for the finale, was the _Largo_ movement from Antonin Dvorak's _New World Symphony_. Myles leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he always did in anticipation of that first melancholy clarinet solo. But after a moment, waiting to hear the click of the conductor's baton on the stand, his eyes suddenly flew open as he realized he would not be hearing it tonight. It struck him that Sue might not even realize there was a woodwind solo in it.

Very quickly, he wrote _**Have you ever been able to pick up the clarinet solo at the beginning of this piece?**_

She held the pad and light down by her leg, so as not to disturb the man sitting next to them. After reading, she shook her head slightly. NO, she signed, then wrote, _**Woodwinds don't make any vibration.**_

_**Have you ever seen it, in lights or something similar? **_When she shook her head again, he continued. _**Maybe I can help you "hear" it… if you want? **_

She eyed him. _**How are you going to do that, when you can't hear it yourself?**_

_**Just trust me— If you can deal with me holding your hand for the first few minutes of the piece. **_

Now she laughed. _**Just don't tell Lucy – I'll never hear the end of it. All right, Myles, you're on. Astound me. **_

He put the notepad away, then took her right hand and held it palm-up in his. He gestured toward the stage, where the conductor was raising his baton and setting the tempo for the orchestra. Bows slid, the baton waved, and he felt the slow swell of the orchestra beginning. Counting time in his head, he placed the tip of his right index finger at the base of her hand, just below her thumb.

* * *

She stiffened as he began to tap lightly against her palm, what she assumed was the soloist's part. After a second, she realized that if he moved to tap closer to the stage, he meant that the note was higher than the one before; if he tapped more toward them, the note went lower. He was obviously very familiar with the piece, because there was no hesitation in his movements.

Sue played the piano; it wasn't difficult, after a bit, to figure out approximately where the notes would sit on the keyboard, or the timing of each note. While it wasn't perfect, it was something, and she was amazed that he'd thought of it.

After a few minutes, the solo part ended, because he stopped tapping. She glanced over and saw that he was watching her. SONG… HAPPYQQ SADQQ, she signed.

SAD, he replied. HAPPY. SAME-SAME. Then he reverted to his notepad. _**Think… lonely, but hopeful at the same time? It's like…walking into a beautiful valley, green with spring, after leaving everything you've ever known. Dreams out of despair. **_

Her eyes widened as she read, then she looked up at him. YOU, she signed. P-O-E-T.

He smiled at the compliment, but raised a finger to his lips. SHHH. NOT TELL.

The brass instruments picked up part of the melody just then, and he pointed at the stage. YOU F-E-E-LQQ. When she nodded, he pointed to her hand and signed SAME-SAME LITTLE.

The piece apparently ended, because people around them were applauding. Sue raised her open "5" hands in front of her and shook them. After a moment he figured out what she was doing— a deaf actor or musician onstage would pick the hand movement up much more easily than standard applause. He wrote her a note to confirm his theory, and when she nodded, he followed her example.

When the applause died down, she tapped his shoulder to get his attention. THANK YOU. BEAUTIFUL GIFT.

WELCOME. His genuine smile warmed her heart. SAME-SAME THANK YOU.


	11. Eleven

The concert hall emptied rapidly; Sue had expected Myles to get up long before now, but he seemed content to stay where they were. After a few minutes, she tapped his arm. YOU OKQQ she asked.

YES, he replied. ME THINK. Then he stood and offered her a hand up. "I have a surprise for you."

She raised a suspicious brow. "Haven't you surprised me enough tonight?" She had to write it out for him.

NO, he grinned. WE THIS WAY GO. He motioned toward one of the doors leading backstage.

WHYQQ She leveled an even more suspicious look at him.

"She trusts me to watch her back on a case, but will she trust me here? No." He shrugged, and let out what she could only imagine was a dramatic sigh. "Never mind, then." He started for the lobby doors.

Sue caught his arm. SNEAKY ME KNOW YOU, she signed with a smile. O-K. She signed it bigger for emphasis. WE THAT WAY GO. ME TRUST YOU. She had to finger-spell "trust" only once, and smiled again when he copied the sign correctly.

THANK YOU. He offered her his arm again, and led her backstage.

A security guard stopped them, but Myles pulled out a pass. The guard looked it over for a moment, then handed it back to him and motioned them past. Sue glanced at him, and he shrugged again. "I thought you might like to meet Miss Glennie in person."

"Really?" YES! THANK YOU. She started to pull out the notepad again, but he stopped her.

"I can figure it out from the look on your face," he said. "You're welcome."

/

* * *

/

They stopped at one of the rehearsal hall doors and Myles knocked. After a moment, a woman opened it. "Yes?"

"My name is Myles Leland. I spoke with someone earlier this week about perhaps meeting Miss Glennie?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Leland! I remember. Please, come in." She gestured them in as well, so he didn't have to look at Sue to figure out what had been said.

As they stepped in, he was again struck with a sense of confusion; he saw musicians busily packing up their instruments, chatting with one another and laughing. But he heard nothing; it wasn't as completely overwhelming as the lobby had been earlier, but he was beginning to really understand the quote Sue had shared with him at dinner. There was a loneliness about it; a little like being stuck in a soundproof booth while the world went on its merry way around him. _Deafness cuts you off from people…_ He knew he'd think about that for a long time.

He felt Sue's hand on his arm and knew she was about to ask if he was okay when a woman approached them. Tall, with straight red hair that tumbled just below her shoulders, Evelyn Glennie was a striking woman. Dark brows raised and even teeth flashed as she smiled. "Good evening."

Myles had gone to see Helga several times in the past week, and practiced this carefully so he could get it right. HELLO, he signed. YOUR MUSIC BEAUTIFUL. He pointed at Sue. MY FRIEND, S-U-E T-H-O-M-A-S. BIG F-A-N HER, HER SAY YOU INSPIRE HER. He remembered to sign "big" large enough that it indicated Sue's "fandom."

Evelyn signed in response, but it was so fast he made no sense of it. Sue laughed softly and rescued him. NICE MEET-YOU. MY FRIEND, M-Y-L-E-S L-E-L-A-N-D THIRD. HEARING HIM, BUT TONIGHT EXPLORE BEING DEAF. ASL VERY SMALL HIM.

The percussionist raised a brow and considered him again. SORRY, she signed. Then she slowed down considerably. NICE MEET-YOU. INTERESTING, HER WORLD YOU SEE? TALK YOU, PLEASE FEEL FREE, MORE EASY FOR YOU. UNDERSTAND YOU WE WILL.

After Sue wrote it out for him, he nodded. "Thank you," he replied, signing it at the same time, "but I think I'll let you two talk for awhile. I'll just slow you down." He smiled as Sue started to protest. "I'm ok. I think I'll wander around for a bit and try to process all this some more, if that's all right." Then he turned back to Evelyn. "Miss Glennie, it was a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to more of your music."

As he walked back toward the door, he turned and watched the two women for a moment. Though he could only pick out a few signs, as fast as they were going, he realized that they'd broken out of the loneliness of their silence. He watched their faces, the expressiveness, and was as enthralled as he has been at the nursing home.

No one heard his heavy sigh. _I've been such an idiot._


	12. Twelve

"Sir? Sir!" A rather hard tap on his shoulder brought his head around.

"I'm sorry, were you speaking to me?"

The man next to him scowled. "You see anyone _else_ around here I might be talking to?"

Myles glanced around the lobby; it was deserted now, except for the maintenance people and the security guard now glaring at him. He'd gotten caught up in watching people, trying to lip-read a bit, and then more recently been fascinated by the vibration he could feel in the walls as a woman used an industrial vacuum on the wide hallways.

He wasn't entirely sure what the man had said, but he got the idea. "I apologize." He decided it would take too long to explain everything. He'd take the simple route and get a bit more education. "I didn't hear you. I'm deaf."

"Apparently." The man glared at him again. "Then what the hell are you doing at the symphony?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. My lip-reading skills are still rudimentary. If you could write it down for me…?" He held out his notepad and pen.

The man ignored the pad and merely spoke louder. "_Then what the hell are you doing here?"_

He caught it very faintly, but Myles wasn't about to let the guy know it. "Yelling doesn't help. I could tell because of the way your mouth moved. I really would appreciate it if you wrote it, please."

The guard huffed and grabbed the pad. _**I said, what the hell are you doing at the symphony if you're deaf?**_The man thrust it back into his hands forcefully.

Myles took a deep breath for patience, realizing Sue dealt with rudeness like this every day. He could manage it for five minutes. "At the moment, I'm waiting for the young lady who accompanied me. She's backstage talking with Miss Glennie."

The guard started to speak again, but Myles held out the notepad. _**So you came all the way down here to meet Miss Glennie? Pretty pricey meet-and-greet.**_ The man's face held the poorly-hidden hint of a sneer as he handed it back.

"No, we came for the symphony," Myles explained patiently. The acoustics in here are wonderful. We can feel the vibrations of the music quite well."

"Whatever." The guard huffed again as Myles raised a brow at him, and snatched the notepad out of the agent's grasp once more. _**We are about to lock the front doors, so you might want to go find your lady friend and go home. **_He all but threw the pad at Myles as he stalked away.

_Well, that was an adventure._ He pulled out his cell phone to text-message Sue before he got back to the rehearsal hall. He was surprised to note that almost an hour had passed. _And she's put up with people like that every day of her life. I'm surprised she's not jaded. How she manages to stay as pleasant as she does is a miracle._

Sue was waiting outside the door for him when he walked up. "Myles, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it had been so long. We got talking, and Deaf conversations can go on for days if you let them, and I'm so sorry I left you standing out here by yourself this whole time." She paused to take a breath.

"It's quite all right. While you were enjoying yourself, I was antagonizing a… hearie, I believe is the term."

"You were _what_?" Her brows shot up.

Myles laughed. "Not intentionally. I'll fill you in, if you're not ready to call it a night."

Sue considered him for a moment. "You toss in something sweet, and you're on." She saw the confused look on his face and wrote it out for him.

He grinned and draped his arm over her shoulders as they headed for the exit. Dipping his head enough so she could read him, he quipped, "What, I'm not sweet enough?" When she laughed and swatted him, he chuckled. "Let's go back and see Gregori. I just realized we forgot Levi's doggie bag, and they have a Chocolate Hazelnut Cake that used to bring Lucy to tears."

Her face lit up. "Deal. You know, you keep this up, and you're going to completely ruin our prickly working relationship."

They stepped out into the warm July night as he tapped her arm. "I got none of that."

She laughed as the valet approached and used the notepad. _**Take out the ear molds, Myles**_, she wrote._** There's no way I'm getting in a car with you unless you do. You don't have that extra clause on your license.**_

"Spoilsport." He complied, storing the molds safely in their case and tucking it into his breast pocket. "Now, what did you say back there?"

She smiled. "I said, deal on the Chocolate Hazelnut Cake, and if you keep this up, we're going to have to explain to everyone why we're suddenly getting along so well."

"I'll take my chances." The valet had returned with the car, and he opened her door for her. "Though I still think I should be afraid of getting shot by my unit leader."

Gregori was delighted to see them again and since the restaurant was quieter now that the dinner rush was over, he joined their conversation for a few minutes after he served their desserts and coffee.

"So you had a good time? A new adventure for you, eh, _il_ _mio amico_?" His dark eyes twinkled as he looked at Sue. "You see, _signora_, you are very lucky. Most ladies he bring in here, he spend all evening with the _colloquio dolce_. Is sweet talk. But with you, he is smart. He let you talk. Perhaps it work better, yes?"

She watched a flush creep into her co-worker's face, but laughed kindly. "We're just friends, Gregori. But thank you. I don't think I've ever seen him blush before." She smiled impishly.

The restaurant owner grinned. "He is found out, as you say. But when he stop here for lunch, he tell me all about you."

Now her brows shot up. "He does?"

"Gregori, don't you have a busboy to flog or something?" Myles toyed with his coffee cup, a rather uncomfortable look on his face.

"Not recently, but long time ago, yes." Gregori nodded. "He tell me this woman come into his unit and mess everything up for him. He very _infastidito _for many weeks. Then one day, he come in and is not so angry. He tell me that maybe he thought wrong after all."

"_Amico_…" There was just the hint of warning, or perhaps pleading, in Myles' eyes.

Gregori glanced at him, a half-smile on his face. "Yes, I am a gentleman and a pirate, but you need to have one person on this planet understand you. And she is good choice, friend or no. I will go away after I tell her."

"You weren't expecting a tip after this, were you?" The Harvard grad's voice was quiet, and his gaze down. Sue could tell he was extremely uncomfortable, but she wasn't sure if it was her place to intervene.

"No, my friend. But is good for you." He turned back to Sue. "_Signora_, he say he watch you at work and he see a fighter for justice, no matter what other things stand in your way. He say he cannot tell you, but you open his eyes, open his world. You share his fight."

He patted Myles on the shoulder. "Is nothing wrong with her knowing. You cannot tell her, so I tell her for you. Good night, my friend. Forgive me for showing her your heart– but you should do it yourself."

"Good night, _signora bella_." He took Sue's hand and kissed it gallantly. "Means 'beautiful lady.' Please remind the hostess, on your way out, that there is cannelloni for Levi in the kitchen." He smiled gently at his friend, and headed off to do something else.

Myles was doing his level best to look _anywhere_ but directly at her. Sue turned her attention to her cake for a few minutes, giving him a chance to regroup.

Finally, he seemed to relax a little; she'd been watching him through her eyelashes, so she knew to look up even before his hand tapped hers.

"Sue, I'm sorry," he said. "I—" He saw the expectant expression on her face, and realized he had no idea what he'd been planning to say.

"Would it help if I told you I read almost none of that?" Her expression was carefully neutral.

"Only if you could go under oath with it." He sighed. "Which, knowing you, I doubt."

She smiled, and he actually leaned his elbows on the table as he rubbed at his temples, something she doubted he'd have done if he hadn't felt quite so awkward at the moment.

"Gregori means well," he said, "but sometimes…"

"I'm sorry?" she asked. "With your head down…"

"Oh. Right." The reminder seemed to snap him out of his discomfort, because he sat back and actually looked at her for the first time in about ten minutes. "I said, Gregori means well, but there are times I wish he weren't quite so…"

"Honest?" She smiled as he nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. "He cares about you, Myles. I can tell that just by the way the two of you interact. You've been coming here a long time, haven't you?"

"I met Gregori about a week after I got transferred here to DC. I must admit, though the transfer to Headquarters was something I'd aspired to, to actually _be_ here was a little…overwhelming." He looked rather embarrassed to admit such a thing aloud. "I came in because the place looked homey and inviting, and I missed my grandmother's gnocchi."

"I'm sorry… no-kee?"

G-N-O-C-C-H-I, he fingerspelled. "Knee-OH-key, but slide the first two syllables together. Pasta dumplings. Grandmother made them with potatoes, but it's the same idea. Anyway, Gregori happened to be on a break, or whatever the owner takes, and we just got talking. After that, I started having dinner here at least once a week, and he'd always come over to talk with me. I don't know why I end up telling him so much."

"Everybody needs a confidante," Sue replied. "I just got lucky; Levi doesn't tell anyone. And by the way, you were right about the cake. It's incredible."

Finally, he laughed. "Shall we get out of here before Gregori comes back?"

Sue smiled as he offered a hand to help her up and gently steered her toward the exit.. "Why? Have you been saying anything _else_ to him about me?"

She'd thought he was going to shrug it off, but instead he took her arm and swung her around to face him directly.

"Only that I hope I find in my life one day someone who is a great deal like you." As her eyes widened, he raised a hand to clarify. "I don't want you to think that… I mean, I'm not saying that meaning that I—" He paused and took a breath. "All I mean is that I've come to have a great deal of respect for you, Thomas. And a great deal _more_ after this evening. I simply wasn't expecting to have it all poured out into your lap by my well-meaning friend. But, now that you know, I may as well finish it off."

"Thank you." She wasn't sure it had made it past the tightness in her throat, so she signed it as well. Then she swallowed and tried again. "Myles, look, I know that I got extremely lucky on this team— you were the only one who had any reservations. Ok, well, at least the only one who voiced them directly to me. I've been on other 'teams' in my life where that wasn't the case— where _most _ofthe others thought the way you did. And honestly? I thought that I'd have to put up with it for as long as I was with your unit. But it hasn't turned out that way. I do understand that you had some real concerns about the safety of the team, and—"

"It was a convenient excuse, for the most part." He looked uncomfortable again as they paused under the lights of the entrance. "And you don't have to bring up Lucy again. Looking back now, I think I was almost relieved that it came out when it did. It would have hurt her worse if more time had passed, because I don't think I had the courage to tell her straight out myself." Another shrug lifted his shoulders. "I never did go to Miami, by the way. She doesn't need to know that, but I thought you should."

"It's not my place to judge, Myles…"

"I know." His eyes shifted down, though he made sure she could still read him. "But I wanted you to know."

She nodded in understanding. "I've learned a lot these past couple of years, too. You were right to be concerned. I guess I've spent so much time on the defensive, trying to prove myself to my mom and everyone else who thought I couldn't do something, or pushed me, that I just dove right in and didn't think about the consequences."

He smiled. "Right to be concerned, perhaps, but not to be cruel. I'm sorry."

Now she grinned and poked his arm. "I thought you were going to stop apologizing. But it's my turn now. I'm sorry, but I really do need to go home so I can get Levi and let Charlie go to bed."

"We can stop on the way and pick him up. Save you a trip, since it's late." He smiled again as she signed THANK YOU, and signed WELCOME in return.


	13. Thirteen

Friday night traffic in DC was heavy, and she didn't want to distract him from the road, so there was silence in the car for most of the ride back. It was comfortable, though, something she hadn't thought she'd ever feel with Myles. After she picked up Levi, the Golden settled in the back seat and slept the rest of the way to her apartment.

Once the car was in "park," though, he switched on the overhead light and turned to her. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Has Jack ever spent an evening with you like this one?"

Her brows went up, and her heart skipped. "Wh— why would you ask something like that?"

"Sue." He gave her his best _you're-joking-right_ look. "I may have been deaf for the last several hours, but I'm not blind. Has he ever _really_ taken a look at your world, from your viewpoint?"

She felt her face grow warm, and suddenly wished the car was dark again. "N-no. But then, no one has."

Now his brows shot up. "You're joking."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not. Didn't you wonder why I was so surprised when you asked about this? Not one hearing person, my entire life, has ever voluntarily walked as far into my world as they possibly could. Except you."

He turned from her for a moment, stunned, leaning his hands on the steering wheel and staring out at the street lights. Then he let out a short breath and glanced at her again. "Who'd have thought, huh?"

"Go figure," she smiled.

"Well," he said, "I should let you get home before Lucy sends out the Marines. May I walk you to your door, at least? My grandmother will haunt me tonight if I don't." He shook his finger at an imaginary person in front of him. "'Always a gentleman, Myles. Never let her walk to her door alone.'"

Sue laughed. "We can't have you falling asleep at your desk tomorrow because you were haunted all night, can we? Yes, that would be very nice."

At the top of the stairs, he paused and caught her hand slightly. "I think I'll say good-night here," he said when she turned. "Lucy is no doubt hovering by the door, and I don't want you to get yelled at for the rest of the evening."

She smiled again. "Still afraid you're going to get shot?"

"There's a good reason rotors aren't issued firearms," he quipped. "But I know she'll give you an ear— uh, eyeful, so… good night." He turned to go, but Sue's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"We never really got a chance to talk about your experience, and I know you really wanted to. Hold on a second." She pulled out her Blackberry, typed a brief text message, and then dialed Lucy's cell number. A few minutes later, a reply came.

"It's ok. She's not home, and says she forgot to tell me she was going to stay at her grandmother's house tonight." She looked up at him and grinned mischievously. "So the coast is clear. You still want to talk?"

He glanced at his watch. "It's already eleven. We may be awhile."

"You want to try to set up _another_ time and keep the rest from finding out?" She grinned. "You're braver than I thought."

Good point," he chuckled. "All right, if it's ok with you, lead on."

"Myles, you're not going to make me keep these heels on in my own house, are you?" Sue motioned to the sofa. "Come in and relax, please."

He looked puzzled. "I thought there'd be more light in the kitchen for you to lip-read."

She laughed. "My house. I can have as many lights in the living room as I need." She walked over to the sofa area and switched on several lamps. "See?"

I SEE. His grin brightened the room further. "By all means, then, kick off your shoes." He pulled off his tuxedo jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the sofa before he sat down, then untied his bow tie and rolled it up neatly before putting in the breast pocket of the jacket.

Sue couldn't resist. "You iron your socks, too, don't you?"

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Did you invite me in to talk, or just so you could abuse me in private?"

She laughed and sat down at the other end of the sofa, undoing the buckles on her shoes and tucking her feet up under her, glad she hadn't worn the straight skirt. She leaned back against the large pillow tucked behind her. "You really surprised me tonight, Myles. I wasn't expecting you to…"

"…last more than five minutes?" he ventured.

"That's not—" She smiled as he gave her a piercing glance. "Ok, so maybe that was part of it. But what I was going to say was that I never expected you to find the experience… positive, I guess?"

"You mean, you didn't think I was really serious about wanting to experience the arts from your standpoint." He held up a hand as she started to protest. "It's ok. I was a bit surprised myself that it wasn't the _music_ experience that I found to be the most enlightening part of the evening."

"What was?"

He folded his hands together and leaned forward a little, resting one arm on the back of the sofa. "Two things, actually. One was the initial shock of walking into that busy lobby and not hearing the cacophony I was used to."

"What was that? Ca-cow…what?"

"Oh. Cacophony. A mix of noises… a racket." She nodded, and he continued. "But then I realized that the visual jumble was really no different than the audible one; I was merely more accustomed to the audible one. It still had its own sense of the excitement and 'pomp' of the event."

"You looked a little shaken at the time," she recalled.

"I was," he admitted. "It was almost dizzying. That was why I took the ear molds out."

"And you thought I wouldn't understand that? It happens to me a lot, especially in a new environment when there's a lot of activity going on." She pulled her feet around in front of her, leaning her arms on her knees for a moment. "What was the other?"

"My little conversation with the security guard," he replied. "_How_, and please understand that I am paying you a compliment, can you put up with people like that, day in and day out, and not scream?"

"You never told me about that," she said. "You were going to, but we got sidetracked at the restaurant. All you told me was that you'd been 'antagonizing a hearie' while I was talking with Evelyn."

"Oh, that's right." He took a few minutes to relate the incident to her. When he finished, she was shaking her head and smiling. "What?"

"I'm impressed," she said. "You handled that better than some people I know who've been deaf all their lives."

"I see now what you mean about having to adapt, instead of having others adapt to you." He laughed slightly. "And, putting up with it your whole life, not punching me out the first chance you got…" He trailed off, and his eyes went solemn. "How can you stay so…you? In the face of all that?"

Sue was quiet for a moment before answering. "I can't say it's been easy, and it's a lot of hard work, but you do eventually learn that getting upset doesn't help the situation." She laughed. "Take you for example, when we first met. I'm sure everyone thought I had as big a problem with you as you did with me. But if I'd lashed back at you, where would we be now? I don't think Mr. Eldridge would have let me stay with the team."

"And more people's lives than I care to count would be dramatically different right now."

"Including mine." His gaze snapped up to her, and she smiled. "I've learned a lot in the past two years, Myles, from _all_ of you. I'd have missed out on that, too."

He nodded, and was silent for a moment. He seemed lost in thought.

She took a chance; he'd laid himself open to her tonight, _mostly_ by choice, and he needed to hear what she needed to say. "You know, most people aren't like that; they're just fascinated with how I know what they're saying when I can't hear. Unfortunately, that sometimes makes me feel like less of an actual person than with the ones who just lay it out straight."

"Ah," he replied. "The 'side-show freak' factor." He caught himself and started to sign SORRY, but she held out a hand to stop him.

"Freak is a good way to put it. It's okay." She watched him nod, then looked at him and smiled. "But you know what's the best?"

"There _is _a best to being treated that way?"

She nodded, and took the chance a step further by holding out her hand to him across the back of the couch. "When someone who starts out looking at me as if I'm broken, like you did, comes to the realization that I'm not, and helps _me _feel that I'm not. It makes all the rest bearable, just knowing that maybe there is light at the end of a dark world."

He took her hand and squeezed it just slightly, then dropped it again quickly, as if he were afraid of sharing too much at once. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do more tonight for you," he said, changing the subject. "That one piece… I really wanted to help you experience the solo on it, and I realized when you asked me if the music was happy or sad that I'd never really be able to tell you. How do you describe a clarinet to someone who has never heard _any_ similar instrument?"

"What you did told me a lot, Myles," she replied. "I got the basic movement of the melody, and you described the flavor of the song very well. Just because I can never figure out _exactly_ what it sounds like doesn't mean you haven't added to what I _can_ experience."

"Still…" He trailed off, his attention suddenly focused over her shoulder. A spark in his blue-grey eyes told her something had triggered an idea. "Let me ask you something. Your loss is high-frequency, and sits at about 110 decibels in your better ear, right?"

"Yes."

"What if you were right next to the piano, near the lower notes, and someone were playing a simple melody. Could you pick it up at all?"

Sue glanced over her shoulder, and realized what he was thinking. "I… I've never tried it. I'd probably need to have my ear pressed right against the piano, so I could feel it as well. And you'd have to bang on the keys pretty hard, I'd think."

He glanced at his watch again. "Any of your immediate neighbors go to bed early on Friday night?"

"You're serious." Her dark eyes were wide.

"Yes, I'm serious. I don't know why this is so important to me, but it is." He stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come on; can't hurt to try it."

The excitement growing in him was contagious; she couldn't help but smile at him. "Okay." She let him help her to her feet and lead her over to the piano.


	14. Fourteen

When they got there, though, he felt her pull back a little. WRONG WHATQQ he signed. AFRAID YOU WHYQQ

She blinked. "You got that perfect."

"I did?" He chuckled. "Well, what do you know? I was guessing. Now, what are you afraid of?"

"I don't know," she said after a moment. "I guess… it's something new for me, something I've never tried before. And I know this is important to you, for whatever reason. I don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't work."

"Sue." His hand came up and rested on her shoulder. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. It's not any fault of yours. Please don't be afraid to try it— not for me, but for _you_."

She looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "All right," she said at last, "I would like to see if it's possible."

He smiled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "Okay, then. You figure out what position will work best for you, while I try to remember which key it's in. We may have to work that out a little as well, if I have to drop it down more than a straight octave."

"We can also figure out how hard you're going to have to pound it out, too. You'd better plan on full-force." She laughed. "You know, it's a good thing my left ear is better. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to talk to you while we try this, because I'd be facing the wall."

He laughed in response as he pulled out the piano bench and sat down. Sue watched him for a moment as he picked out notes here and there, amazed again that _he_ was the one sharing this with her. Then she shook out of her thoughts and considered the piano at length, finally opening the top of it so she could figure out exactly where the hammers hit the strings.

It turned out that the best position was for her to sit on the large footstool that had come with the sofa set, with her left ear pressed against the piano. It brought her ear to the same height as the hammers. She also had her right hand on the corner of the piano, just above the keyboard. Her shoes were still off, and her feet were flat on the hardwood floor.

READYQQ he signed.

"I think so," she replied. "I've done all _I_ can."

He chuckled. "All right then, let's see what I can do." He hit a note near the bottom of the keyboard, as hard as he could.

She jumped a little. "Do you have the resonance pedal down?"

"I do. How could you tell?"

"The vibration is stronger. But I think it's distorting what sound I can pick up. Can we try it without the resonance?"

"Of course." He tried again.

"That's better," she said. "Thank you."

"All right, we've found the right octave and the right volume," he said with a smile. "Why don't we try for range? Then I can figure out which key to put it in."

"Okay."

It took a few minutes, but eventually they came to the conclusion that she could pick up approximately a seven-note spread at the bottom of the keyboard. Myles was very still, his eyes veiled as to what he was thinking. Finally, she tapped his arm and signed WRONG WHATQQ

"Nothing," he answered. "I was just thinking, is all. Transposing in my head isn't something that comes naturally."

Something about his expression made her think he wasn't being entirely truthful, but she let it pass. He signed READYQQ again, and she nodded.

O-K. He leaned his arm on the end of the piano and faced her. "You felt the swell of the orchestra at the beginning of the piece. It begins in a minor key, and sounds very dark. Then it shifts, very subtly over the next few measures, into a major key, as if you could put music to a sunrise. As that shift reaches its peak, one lone voice rises from the crowd…"

She let her eyes drift closed, concentrating. She remembered the progression his finger had made on her hand at the concert hall, and expected notes to be missing as they drifted out of her range. But they didn't; every tap she remembered had a note here. After the first two "phrases," he touched her hand and she looked up.

"The next part goes higher," he said, "but I'm going to drop it down an octave so it's in your range."

When he stopped playing a minute later, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "It was all there," she said in wonder. "Every note."

"I know," he replied, and she could tell from his expression that his voice was soft. "I knew after we figured out your range that you'd get it all."

"It's so… melancholy, I think is the ten-dollar word you'd pull out." She smiled as she teased him. "But there's so much hope in it as well."

"Yes."

It seemed he started to say something else, but she beat him to it. "May I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Would you play it again for me? Only…" She trailed off, a bit unsure.

WHATQQ he signed.

"Well, the normal way that most profoundly deaf people can best feel a piano is to lay their hand on top of the player's hand. As the fingers strike the keys, the vibrations travel up through the hand, and we can feel it better than just touching the piano someplace."

Her eyes dipped just slightly. "I would like to experience it as you do, at least how it makes you feel. You don't have to pound it out so hard if I'm doing it this way, and more of the emotion comes through. I have the notes in my head now. Your description of the orchestra was perfect. This is just a way of pulling everything together for me."

He immediately shifted the piano bench down further toward her, then motioned for her to join him. She sat down at his left, and he rested his arm behind her so she had better access to the hand he was playing with.

Suddenly, she felt him stiffen a little next to her. She looked up, and saw a rather stunned expression cross his face. "What?" she asked.

"I just—" He glanced at her. "I think I figured out why I wanted so badly for you to hear this."

"Why?"

He paused for a moment, apparently trying to collect his thoughts. "Dvorak wrote his _New World Symphony_ in 1893 in New York, while he was there to work with some young American composers. One of them, William Arms Fisher, later added lyrics to the melody I just played, based on traditional Spirituals. I was just recalling those lyrics…" He trailed off for a moment, gazing at her with an almost surprised look.

"There's something in them that made you think… of me?" Her brows raised a little.

Myles half-shrugged. "Sort of. Now, please don't take this wrong. The song is often used for funerals. But… after what you've showed me tonight, and the journey I know you've made to get where you are… it just seems to fit."

"Can you sing it and play at the same time? I don't have to watch your hand while you play, so I can read it."

He nodded, swallowing hard for a moment. "I can sing and play at the same time, yes; but I'm not sure I can sing it and look at you at the same time." When her brows went up again, he clarified. "It's an emotional song, and this evening has made it more so."

"You can just tell me the lyrics afterward, if that would be more comfortable," she smiled.

He actually considered it, she could tell. But then he shook his head. "No. I can do it." His breath came out in a small laugh. "Besides, we're keeping this little 'mission' hush-hush anyway, right?"

"I won't tell a soul," she smiled. "And Levi's already asleep, so he won't tell."

Myles glanced over their shoulders to where the Golden was sprawled under the coffee table. "I can always bribe him with more cannelloni if I need to. All right. Ready?"

Sue laughed. "Ready." She laid her hand over his on the keyboard, and he turned a little so she could read him better. His gaze rested slightly above hers; in a Deaf conversation, it would be considered rude, but she knew he was trying to hold whatever emotions this song inspired in him somewhat in check.

She felt the vibration as he hit the first note, and saw him start to sing:

_Goin' home, goin' home, Been so long away,_

_Wandered far down the road, Goin' home to stay._

_That's the place want to see, Now my work's all done,_

_That's the place want to be, That's where I belong._

_All my cares soon be gone, Nothin' trouble me,_

_I just keep movin' on, Longing to be free._

_All the folks I love dear, Waiting 'round the bend,_

_In my dreams see them there, At my journey's end._

_Steady down the road keep movin',_

_Soon these weary eyes a-soothin',_

_When I look on home._

_Night is past, day is come, Never 'gain to roam._

_Lasting joy now begun, For I'm going home._

Without her realizing it, her fingers tightened over his slightly as he finished. "Such a beautiful song," she murmured.

He nodded silently, still staring past her. After a moment, he looked down at her and asked softly, "You've found _your_ home here, haven't you? I get that impression. You've found your freedom, your… voice? After a long, steady journey, the end of a hard life's work, or at least this chapter of it. You've just seemed to be… contented, lately."

She thought about that for a minute. "I feel more comfortable here, if that's what you mean. Like I've finally found a… niche, I guess."

"That was what struck me tonight when I remembered the lyrics to this song. Not that the FBI is exactly heaven, but…" He chuckled again.

"But you all have given me a chance to be myself, to allow me to grow within that… safety net, I guess you could say." She saw his eyes go bleak with shame, and dared to reach up and touch his cheek. "Even you. You just took a little longer, is all. But once you did…" Now she glanced away for a moment, and when she looked at him again, her voice was shaky and a tear had trickled down her cheek. "I know I already explained, but…"

She took a breath, trying to get her emotions under control, and rested her hand on his shoulder. "It's just… to have someone show a desire to not just see my world but to _experience_ it as well, and then for them to really follow through… it's not just talk anymore. You have no idea how much I truly appreciate being able to share all of this with you." She stretched up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

GIFT MINE, FROM YOU he signed, then wiped the tear from her face with his thumb. THANK YOU. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in return.

She couldn't have explained _why_ she did what she did; but something in the moment rose up, and she turned her face just a little, so that his kiss landed not on her cheek, but on her lips.


	15. Fifteen

He started slightly, thinking he'd misjudged; but her fingers tightened on his shoulder, so he let the moment linger just a little, settling his hand against her face.

He understood that their emotions had been running very high tonight, but he also knew it would go no further than this. Her heart was elsewhere, and he knew he wasn't ready to make the sacrifices that being a permanent part of her life would entail. To do less than that would be to hurt her deeply, and he wasn't about to dim the light he'd seen this evening.

After a moment, she drew away, her cheeks red and her head down. "Myles, I'm _so_ sorry, I don't know what—"

He tipped her chin up. "It's all right, Sue. It's been an intensely emotional evening for both of us. And I won't say that, after tonight, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. But you and I both know that someone else has your heart right now. I won't interfere with that."

"I-I—" She broke off her protest as he raised a brow at her pointedly, and she sighed. "You're right. But… I don't know if he'd ever do what you've done tonight."

"The symphony? Unlikely. Now, the Billy Joel concert on tour…" he smiled as she laughed softly, then moved to take her hand. "Have you ever expressed to _him_ how much it would mean to you if he were to experience your world first-hand?"

Sue shook her head. "It's not something you just bring up. And it's… it's not like there could be anything between us right now anyway…"

"I think there possibly _could_ be, if you want it badly enough," he replied. "Just as you've done with everything else in your life, you will seek out a way."

She laughed softly, seeing his words. "Perhaps."

"Now," he smiled, lifting her hand and laying it on the keyboard, "if I recall correctly from the Christmas party you had here awhile back, it was said that you can play the piano as well. Is that true?"

Sue nodded. "Yes, but…"

"Would you play something for me? Please. I promise not to stare in utter fascination."

She'd started to protest again, but his quip made her laugh. "I know you wouldn't do that. Just promise me you won't wince too badly if I screw up."

"May I ask how _you_ know if you've played something incorrectly?" He saw her brows furrow at the last word and signed WRONG to clarify.

"When I learn a song, I read the notes first, then use the metronome to see the tempo. That way, I know exactly where my fingers should be at any given point. If I mess up, my fingers won't be in the right place to move to the next chord, and it will throw me off." She looked up at him. "Does that make sense?"

"Perfectly. I learn the same way, only I _hear_ the metronome while I'm playing. But it throws my tempo off to hit a wrong note, too. I just hear it as well." He smiled. "So, now that you've apologized in advance, what will you play for me?"

"I think—" She broke off and eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "That was very smooth. I was still formulating another protest."

"Interrogation techniques come in handy for more than breaking down criminals," he replied innocently. "And I want you to show me the sign for 'formulate.'"

She laughed. "Just borrowing one of your 'ten-dollar words.' There isn't an actual sign for it; I'd probably use THINK-PLAN." She showed him, and he copied it. Then she raised a brow at him. "That reminds me. _When_ did you suddenly increase your ASL past THANK YOU and INSPIRE?"

"You forgot WELCOME and BEAUTIFUL." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned. "Tell you what. The information will cost you exactly one song on the piano."

"All right, all right. I should know better than to argue; I've been in interviews with you. You're relentless." She laughed as he drew back and placed a hand on his chest as if to say _"moi?"_ "Do you like Chopin's _Winter Wind_?"

His brows shot up. "_Vent d'Hiver_? Yes, very much." He smiled when she gave him a confused look. "I learned the French version of the title first."

"First Italian, now French. I'm so glad the Russian wasn't an issue." She smiled as he started to apologize. "I'm teasing you. It's just nearly impossible for me to lip-read."

He looked properly contrite. "Yes, I like _Winter Wind_. It's one of my favorites of his études."

"Well, then, get out of my way, because this takes a little elbow room." She saw him laugh and get up, then move to the right side of the piano, still facing her so they could talk afterward.

She began to play, and Myles was amazed, watching her. One would never know that she could not hear what she was playing; she attacked the keyboard with all the vigor of an accomplished pianist, and after a moment he stopped watching her and just listened, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music.

After she hit the last chord, she looked up at him. "I _think_ I got it right. It felt right; how did it sound?"

It took him a minute; he seemed to be collecting his thoughts. When he finally looked at her, he signed WOW. Then, as her brows climbed again, he continued with BEAUTIFUL, PERFECT.

"Thank you. I like that one; it gives me a workout. Good for days when I can't make it to the gym."

He laughed and sat down next to her again. "It was absolutely amazing. You play superbly."

"What was that last word?" He spelled it out for her, and her cheeks colored again. "Oh. Thank you. There are just too many consonants in that word to read it easily."

Myles tilted his head to one side, saying the word softly to see for himself. "Yes, I can see that now. My apologies." He ducked slightly and chuckled as she aimed a soft swat at his shoulder. "Hey, I'm still learning. You can't expect me to ignore my upbringing every time I make a mistake."

"No, I guess I can't," she laughed in return. "But I think we're both getting very tired, and I don't want to read in tomorrow's paper that you fell asleep at the wheel and ended up part of the cityscape."

"True." He offered her a hand up, then went to retrieve his jacket.

"Wait a minute," she said suddenly. "You never answered my question."

His expression was innocent as he turned, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "What question was that?" She wrinkled her nose at him, and he laughed. "Oh, yes. My new ASL vocabulary."

"_Well_?"

He shrugged into his jacket as he explained. "I hate to admit the motive, but I was getting a little paranoid, watching you and Lucy sign all the time. Knowing her, and her grudges, I thought it might be prudent to gain a bit of 'defensive strategy.' So I arranged with a professor at Gallaudet for a little 'independent study,' that would fit with my very irregular schedule."

"You took a class? _You?_" Her eyes were wide.

He nodded. "I'm still very much a novice, since the only practice I really got until tonight was in the class, but my sign vocabulary is up to 40 or so." He looked a little hesitant again. "Now that you know, it would be nice to get in more practice, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course!" Then her smile faded slightly. "But… if we weren't going to let the rest of the team find out about this evening…"

"I thought about that," he replied. "But now I find that the idea of going back to where we were just doesn't appeal. I can't do it, Sue— it would negate everything I've learned tonight, all I've experienced, and that would be utterly unfair to you, and the world you've shown me."

She just stared at him for a minute, trying again to process that it was _Myles_ standing here saying this. Then she shook her head in amazement. "When you finally see something you want, you don't mess around, do you?"

"I guess we're quite similar in that respect, aren't we, Thomas?" He smiled as they walked through the kitchen. When they reached the entryway, he turned to face her, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "You know, you could suggest to the team that _everyone _take a class. Then I could practice all I needed to, and no one would be the wiser. That would give you a subtle way to draw _Jack_ into your world as well."

Sue laughed. "I wonder who would grouse more about it— you, playacting, or Jack, for real."

Her friend's blue eyes went solemn. "I don't think he'd complain, if you explained, to _all _of us, why it means so much to you." Then he smiled. "And if by some chance he does… well, you've always got a date for the symphony at least."

"Yes, I do. And I may take you up on that, anyway."

"I have season tickets, and usually end up giving my extra to one of my neighbors. Whenever you would like to go, you just let me know."

They chatted for a bit longer, about the symphony schedule, the fraud case they'd been assigned that morning, a little of everything. Finally, he glanced at his watch again and laughed. "Well, we've been standing here for the past 20 minutes. I think I've just been involved in my first real Deaf goodbye."

Sue smiled. "I warned you they could go on for days." She reached up and gave him a big hug. "Thank you again for a wonderful evening."

He returned it fully, then drew back enough to face her. He smoothed back a strand of hair from her face, then tipped her chin up slightly. "May I?"

She nodded, smiling, and leaned toward him, but he stopped her. "No, you stay right there. If I miss again, I may change my mind about being noble." He pressed a lingering kiss on her cheek. "You know, there's a Sioux Indian prayer that I've thought a great deal about tonight; I think it applies here."

She raised a brow, and he quoted softly. 'O Great Spirit, keep me from ever judging a man until I have walked a mile in his moccasins." She smiled and hugged him again. "Thank you, Sue," he said when she could read him once more. "For showing me what I've missed. Good night."

"Good night, Myles." She squeezed his shoulder before he stepped through the door. Then she wandered back to the window and watched as he unlocked his car.

He looked up for a moment and saw her there; he smiled and signed GOOD NIGHT, GOOD FRIEND.

She replied in kind, and he drove off. Then she turned to where Levi was looking up at her. "Come on, buddy, let's get some sleep. We still have to work in the morning."


	16. Sixteen

He'd thought about it all night; as a rule, he made it a point to _not _get involved in the emotional tangles of office relationships. But something about this just wouldn't let him rest, so he dialed his cell as he drove in to work.

"Dennis? It's Myles Leland. No, it's not time for our quarterly stand-off on the golf course. I have a favor to ask you. Do you know where I might be able to pick up a pair of ear molds on short notice? The kind musicians use." He listened for a moment. "You do? Wonderful. I can pick them up on my lunch hour. No, that's fine, just leave them with the receptionist. Thank you. I'll explain to you next time we're stuck on the front nine. Goodbye."

He smiled as he hung up, leaning back in the seat. _There are times when the fact that __all__ doctors play golf at some point in their lives comes in very handy._

Jack Hudson walked back into the Bullpen after lunch. The office was busy, but quiet. No "impending doom" cases were on their docket, so everyone was back to the more mundane fraud, civil rights, and environmental cases that took up ninety percent of every agent's time.

He leaned on the doorway for a moment, surveying his team with a sense of pride. Bobby and Lucy were tracking down bank records for a money-laundering operation, Dimitrius was plowing through EPA reports, and Tara was down at the shooting range for her quarterly re-qualification.

Myles and Sue were talking together at his desk, no doubt about the investment fraud case he'd teamed them up for yesterday morning. The Harvard grad was leaning back in his chair, and Sue was perched on the corner of the desk. Jack was glad that things had _finally_ smoothed out between the two of them.

Suddenly, something caught Jack's attention, and the dark eyes narrowed. _Is it just me, or did he just __sign__ something to her?_ He couldn't see the blond agent's hands well enough to tell for sure. He knew they'd gone to see Evelyn Glennie last night; Myles had requested the evening off weeks ago, and Jack knew, from the nursing home case, that Glennie was a personal hero of Sue's.

How that all had added up to an evening out was something he hadn't quite figured out yet, but if it made for a calmer workplace, he was all for it. _Must have been an interesting evening, though_. He chuckled to himself, pulling out of his thoughts. _I wonder if they were able to carry on a civil conversation for that long. Well, time to get back to work._

He walked over to his desk and stopped short; on the dark surface was a small beige case. Beneath it, on a sticky note, were three words in very familiar bold handwriting.

_**Walk a mile.**_


End file.
